


That's One Creamy French Maid

by FreckledSkittles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Food Play, French-Speaking Jean Kirstein, Jean in said French maid dress, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Smut, bc you know puns and whatnot, but it's nothing complex you're welcome, french maid, he speaks french for like half of this, how do you tag smut, it's just whipped cream nothing fancy, oh god this is so gay what am i doing, wow so much sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:06:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, a freckled boy said he wanted to see his horse boyfriend dressed up like a French maid, "with frills and an apron and a little hat." For a long time, the boy forgot about his request, because he had to do adult things.</p>
<p>But the horse boyfriend always delivers. And what a delivery it is.</p>
<p>Or: Marco fucks Jean dressed up like a French maid, with frills and an apron and a little hat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's One Creamy French Maid

**Author's Note:**

> This is so dirty, I think I need to wash away my sins just for writing this. And it got really out of hand. I just wanted to write a little smut thing and then this happened and honestly I'm not driving this car anymore. Oh well.
> 
> Also happy birthday to the freckled boy who deserved so much better than what he got. At least there's this one smut fic to make him happy. :')

"Oh. Uhh."

Marco was expecting little when he got home from work at four-thirty. He knew Jean would be home by then, and he knew they would have to get ready for dinner and a good night out with friends at the "fancy and expensive straight bar" exclusively for birthdays or celebrations. That was certain to have a surprise or two, as custom with their often eccentric friends. His parents had sent him flowers, as usual, and surprised him with his favorite Puerto Rican sweets, something he had missed since he had last visited four years ago. His boyfriend hadn't said much about what he had gotten Marco. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had said  _nothing_ about it. Marco wasn't one who ogled over material items, so it wasn't something upsetting, but he was curious as to what Jean had planned.

Once he actually  _saw_  his gift, he was glad that he had known nothing at all.

It was a French maid outfit for sure, complete with a short black dress and thigh-high stockings held up by a garter belt that disappeared up into the frills that kept the black skirt aloft. The apron was a nice touch, frilly with lace at the edges and taut around Jean's waist. The bodice complimented the apron, imitating a corset with white trim and making a show of a thin collarbone and neck. The headpiece on top of his head was just icing on the cake, a cake that was holding the nozzle of a whipped cream can to his mouth.

Jean blinked at his boyfriend and lowered his arm, a glowing blush lighting his face up. He shuffled nervously in place,  _were those heels clicking on the tiles oh god_ , and looked away in embarrassment. Marco glanced at him fully, up and down, and blinked to see if the image would go away. It stayed, and each glance over the latest ruffle was just something else to appreciate.

"Wow."

It's the first thing he had said since he had entered. Syntax wasn't his main concern at the moment.

Jean huffed at the comment, his eyes darting back to Marco, and he shot him a glower. " _J'avais faim._ "

_I was hungry_ , he says. In _French_. He's speaking French, in a _French_ _maid costume._  A cherry on top of a very flawless, _very tempting_ cake.

Marco gulped, tossing aside his belongings, and took a step forward. Jean stayed in place, one eyebrow raised in mild wonder. With the added height to the heels, he was a bit taller than Marco, a small victory he probably relished in (and probably something that got him to buy them in the first place, the loser).

"You look great," Marco whispered. One hand reached up to brush against Jean's cheek, but it dropped back down in an instant. He didn't want to ruin the perfect image that had been crafted. How long has he been planning this? Hell, how long has he had the maid dress?

" _Merci_ ," Jean said, his voice soft yet layered with confidence. He knew that he looked good, that it was enticing, and his continued usage of his second language only added more proof to that.

He licked his lips and stepped a bit closer. This time, his hand wrapped around Jean's waist and tugged him forward so that their chests touched. Jean stumbled a bit, but remained steady, one hand gripping Marco's sleeve. "You know what that does to me."

"Hmm." Jean shook the whipped cream bottle and squirted some onto the length of his index finger. When he reached the tip, he stopped and glanced up at Marco through his eyelashes. " _Je ne sais pas._ " He licked the cream off of his fingers, making a show of it to slide his tongue along the surface and wipe off the spiral of white. His smirk only added to the act.

Marco walked backwards until his back met the edge of the island counter, keeping Jean in perfect sync with his steps. In this position, leaning back a bit in a stoop, Jean had the upper hand, a fact that brightened up the traces of lust in his eyes. The black skirt and white apron brushed against Marco's clothing, brushing against the growing bulge in his pants without a doubt.

Jean hummed when he glanced down to take a look at the reaction he was receiving, and a wolfish grin quirked up on his lips. " _Qu'est-ce que c'est?_ "

Marco hissed at the hand that grabbed him, his thumb running against the tip gently. "D-don't be coy."

" _Moi?_ " Jean shook the can again, and Marco couldn't help but admire the rest of the outfit with a single glance. The little details he put into the outfit, from the intricacy of the corset to the type of shoes he wore, was impressive. He thought about this more than expected. " _Jamais._ "

With a snort, his elbows holding him up against the counter, Marco watched as Jean removed his hand from his crotch and sprayed another line of whipped cream on his finger. This time, however, when he licked it off, he let a faint droplet scrape onto his lower lip. Instead of licking it off, he kept it there, lingering on thin lips,  _what a fucking tease_. "You're such a jerk."

With a tilt of his head, Jean squirted whipped cream onto a clean finger and suckled onto it. His cheeks caved in, slurping and twisting his finger around. He leaned forward, pressing his body against Marco's, chest to chest yet still separated by their clothing. Jean's leg shifted so that his thigh pressed against Marco's crotch, and Marco nearly sighed in pleasure. " _Peut être._ "

That was the last straw. Marco tugged him by the collar to press their lips together, making sure to lick the lower one before delving any deeper into his mouth. Jean happily complied and reciprocated with just as forward passion, his free hand finding familiar purchase among brown locks and tugging. The taller moaned into the kiss and turned them around so that Jean was now against the counter, bringing a yelp out of the blond man and breaking apart their kiss. This time, it was Marco's turn to smirk with a glint of trickery in his eyes. Jean's pupils widened, filled with more lust and desire than what had already been there before. "Everything you're doing is driving me crazy."

Jean hummed and, despite a faint quiver in his voice, raised a leg up to coil around Marco's teasingly. " _Désolé._ "

"You're not sorry." Marco reached for the can of whipped cream, but Jean held it out of his reach.

" _Qu'est-ce que tu fais?_ "

"Not you, that's for sure."

" _Tch._   _Méchant._ "

Marco huffed, eyebrows furrowing, before an idea came to his head. If he couldn't get what he wanted, maybe he could earn it? After all, if he was so bad, perhaps proving it to him would be beneficial in the long run. With a gentle sigh, Marco's hands trickled down Jean's side, feeling the firm muscle to the tune of rustled fabric. Jean hummed and shut his eyes at the contact, swaying into the movement. Marco smirked at his triumph and then dipped down past the ruffled petticoat and to his thigh, in between the stockings and the garters holding it up. The contact earned him a soft gasp and a shift forward. Marco took it as an invitation to take the final step, and he slid up his thigh to grab a very obvious and very recognizable erection. Jean yelped at the sudden contact, eyes flying open to gawk at Marco, who leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"You're excited too." He bit the shell and chuckled softly. The texture was silky, a fine material that was unmistakable lingerie. Maybe it was a piece they owned already, or something newly bought, but either way, it was a pleasant surprise. "You even wore panties to go along with it?"

Jean seethed between his teeth, but not out of malice. He spread his legs instead, thrusting into the hand before him. Before he could get much from it, however, Marco pulled his hand back and held up two fingers in expectation. Both of them were expecting more than just a few teasing touches, and as ~~addicting~~ arousing as it was to watch him lick whipped cream off his finger, it was time to move on. 

Jean looked between his face and his fingers before he shook the can once more and squirted the whipped cream onto Marco's fingers. Marco busied himself with nipping at Jean's exposed collarbone, licking at spots that earned a jump, nibbling the ones that brought out guttural moans of desire from Jean's lips. His hips shifted, but Marco pressed his free hand firmly on his hip and held him against the counter, rendering his hips useless to thrust or move in even the slightest shift. Jean stuck his leg out to create friction against his straining member pressed against his pants, and Marco stuttered against his neck when he did. Damn him.

Marco held his hand up to Jean's lips and moved closer so that their bodies were lined up perfectly together. Happily opening his mouth and sucking on his fingers, Jean's hands wandered down to cup his ass and hold him closer. He let out a muffled groan when he shifted the right way and their erections brushed together, but Marco still held him in place, keeping him incapable of movement.

"So greedy," Marco laughed lightly, ducking his head to kiss his way up Jean's neck. "And impatient." He sucked at a particular spot under his jaw, smirking at the whine that slipped past his fingers. "Are you gonna come in your panties?"

Jean nodded weakly, still slurping on the fingers though just barely keeping a hold around them. He had tossed aside the can long ago to grip Marco's wrist for balance, as shaky as it may have been. His eyes were shut, as if in peace, accompanied by the soft suckles and the dragging of tongue against fingers. Marco toyed with the garter, letting the strap gently snap against creamy pale skin. Even if this was a one-time thing, at least he had the chance to appreciate it. From the hat to the apron to the frills to the stockings that shaped his legs so  _nicely_. The best they had ever looked.

Marco tugged the panties, stained with precome, down to his knees in one fluid motion, making sure that the garter was still secure, and then tugged his fingers out of Jean's mouth. A strand of drool kept them connected briefly before breaking apart. Marco tugged Jean closer so that he could rest his chin on his shoulder, and then lifted up the back end of his skirt. The hand covered in spit went directly to his entrance, but stopped at the familiar feeling of plastic. He had been prepared. 

"What's this, Jean?" He asked with a smirk. Jean keened and buried his face into his neck, arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing. "You just couldn't wait for me to stretch you, huh? You had to let something else do the work?"

Jean nodded his head, a trembling exhale taking place of words.

"Did you pleasure yourself while wearing this?"

" _N-non—_ " He started to protest, but he was cut short when Marco nudged the tip of his finger alongside the anal plug. He keened at the sensation, his legs trembling and his knees nearly giving out beneath him.

"Are you sure?" He tugged on the plug, twisting it and relishing in the breathless gasp from his boyfriend. "You sound so aroused. How am I supposed to believe you?"

Jean was unable to respond, his mouth open around a reply that was cut off with a pull on the plug. The sound of heels clacking against the tile for purchase was like a sweet melody. So desperate and still trying to hide it.

"Oh, Jean." Marco pulled the toy out completely and tossed it aside. He pulled back for one last kiss with Jean, one accompanied by a trembling embrace and a hum, before he turned Jean around and bent him over the counter. The shorter let out a shuttering shy, relaxing against the counter in delirium. Marco noticed him reaching up to grab onto the other edge of the counter for leverage, straightening out his form and sending more shocks right down to his cock. He was about to come just from a curved back and an ass perfectly framed by a big white bow.

Impressive.

Marco didn't waste any time in making sure that he was well-stretched from the plug, and nudged against his prostate as a small present for his troubles. Jean was shaking beneath him by the time he was done, and he finally nudged himself inside of Jean's entrance. They both sighed at the pleasure, Marco nearly bucking at the heat and friction surrounding his member. He leaned over so that his chest was lined up with his lover's back, and his hands reached up to intertwine with his. Jean leaned his head back against his shoulder, and shouted at the first thrust.

" _Encore_ ," he panted, legs scrambling for some sort of relief. " _Encore, s'il te plaît!_ "

Marco, not having to be told twice, began a steady rhythm of thrusts before he picked it up. His hands stayed tangled with Jean's, successfully holding him down and still and without any way of moving. The immobilization, from what he knew well, was something both of them had always found appealing, and today was no exception. Jean thrashed his hips back as best he could to speed things up, nearly causing Marco to pull out all the way from his eager shifts. The mismatched rhythm left only the head in, and Marco held that position with trembling legs. Jean tried to move back, but the weight on his body extracted a broken whine from his parted lips.

"Marco—" Jean gulped in air, hands moving within his grasp, his voice still tinted with the remains of French. "Please, fuck me, _please_!"

"Jean—!" Marco resumed his movement, faster and harder than before, and Jean was practically lifted off the ground. His voice rose into a higher octave, as it always did when he was nearing his peak, which was only brought on the less he was able to move. At first, he had tried to keep up with the thrusts, but he had to settle for lying still and letting Marco move above him. Jean tightened his grip the faster he moved and the faster he became to his climax. He was babbling, a sweet mixture of French and English, broken up with moans and borderline screams as his prostate was struck.

Marco felt that he was also close to coming, his thrusts sporadic and sloppy. He leaned closer to Jean so he could press kisses along his ear and cheek, a habit he picked up when they became more involved. Jean, in response, pressed a kiss to the top of his hands and held them close to his chest before he was tensing up and tipping over the edge. He threw his head back with a shaky gasp, followed by a shout of Marco's name as he came, squeezing around Marco as he did and pulling him along with him. Marco thrust one more time, biting into Jean's shoulder to muffle the loud pleasured groan that was released along with him.

For a moment, the duo simply laid in the afterglow, panting and intertwined in one another to allow their heartbeats a regain of balance. When Marco felt his legs were strong enough, he untangled their hands and gently pulled himself out. Jean stayed plastered against the kitchen counter, eyes shut and legs slack. Marco rearranged the skirt a bit, making it more presentable with a smile.

"I can feel your come dripping out of my ass," Jean mumbled without sitting up, and Marco laughed. He helped his shorter boyfriend turn around, and gently pulled him into his arms. Jean stumbled against him with a content sigh, leaning on him without the support of his heels.

"That was a great present," Marco said.

"I know."

Always so cocky. Marco carded a hand through his hair, fixing the little hat from where it had toppled over. "How did you even get it?"

"Not telling."

He laughed. "I should have known."

Jean poked his backside in retaliation. "This is only half of it. When we come home from the bar later, you're getting the second half."

There was more? When he already had so much? Honestly, Jean dressed as a "French maid" and speaking the language of love while having sex in the kitchen was enough for him. "You still wanna go tonight?"

"If I don't, I'll lose a bet with Eren and Reiner. So yes, I wanna go."

Of course. Marco rolled his eyes. "Well do I at least have a clue for tonight?"

Jean moved away so that he could properly look at him, and for a second Marco thought that the coy look in smoldering amber eyes meant he wasn't going to get an answer. But, with a smirk and a snort, he was deceived. "It involves you and me, and a cowboy hat, and some rope."

"Interesting." He could already conjure up a million and one scenarios in his head, but he turned them away for now. That was for later. "Well, if you _have_ to go for your bet, I'm happy to go with you."

"Oh, please, babe." Jean pulled him down for a kiss, sweet and gentle and much too short. "The wait is worth it."

Marco smiled at him and nuzzled his nose. If it meant sitting through dinner with their friends, under endless jokes and drunken antics and joyful celebration, he would deal with the few hours of wait. At the end of the day, he would still be happy, with Jean, holding him close and enjoying the warmth shared between them. He was a lucky man, to be with someone who cared for him as strongly as he did.

"Now carry me to the bedroom. These heels hurt and my legs are now jelly."

_Almost_ lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the sin of smut. :^) I tried my bestest. <3


End file.
